Part 8

C. G. Schillings, phot.

GROUP OF MASAI, SHOWING THE HEAVY IRON ORNAMENTS WORN BY THE MARRIED WOMEN. IN THE BACKGROUND, ONE OF THEIR HUTS, PLASTERED OVER WITH EARTH.]

For suddenly from a height I notice a number of large mounds, formed of stones, such as only the hand of man could have built up. Under the secure protection of these masses of rock--rough hillocks of heaped up stones--men, who were once chiefs and elders of the Masai, sleep their everlasting sleep. Their resting-places have been so placed that they are not visible from any considerable distance, but are hidden away in the hollows of the ground. Out there in the wilderness, beneath the bright blue sky, these simple old monuments speak to me most impressively of the mighty harmony of everlasting change. As chance will have it, I find not far from the graves a human skull shining brightly in the sunlight and resting on a projecting rock. It must have lain here very long, as if keeping a look out on the old tomb of ol ‘loiboni, the departed “wizards” of the Masai. The empty eye-holes stare at the ancient grave.

But this symbol of the least is not obedient to the spell of death that whispers here all night long, for it has had to give shelter and protection to the rearing up of new life. As my hand grasps the skull, now brittle with decay, a family of mice takes to flight from inside of it. They had set up their home in this bony palace, and built their nest there.

And as if the Masai, resting probably for centuries under these heaps of stone, had left their herds to me, once more there surges around me this sea of animals. Near at hand they are sharply defined against the ground, but farther off in the glittering light they grow indefinite. How the whole flood of life contrasts with the grim volcanic barrenness of the landscape!

At this moment my impression of vast shepherd-guarded herds is deepened by the sudden appearance of some spotted hyenas, scattering among the volcanic pebble beds, and then running away over the plain, and seeming to play the part of the shepherds’ dogs.

But where are the herdsmen of all these herds? Immediately there comes an answer to my question. Yonder, by the margin of the lake, in the distance, I see little wreaths of smoke rising. The idea they give me of herdsmen on the watch is to be quickly dissipated by a report, not a loud one, followed by puffs of powder-smoke that vanish quickly in the air. The shooting does not disturb the animals that surround me. But then the report is hardly audible, the little puffs of smoke barely perceptible to the eye. I must find out who is disturbing the peace. It is perhaps a caravan making for the Victoria Nyanza. For we are upon the new “road” to the lake--a road which is indeed still in the region of projects, but which soon will be plainly marked with railway metal.

The smoke puffs appear at markedly regular intervals and as quickly disappear. I cannot understand it. For a long time I keep my attention anxiously fixed on these proceedings, all the while hurrying towards this remarkable apparition. At last my field-glasses enable me to descry a man, who from time to time drops on one knee to take aim.

C. G. Schillings, phot.

A PARTY OF MY TRUSTY COMPANIONS.]

What in the world is he after?

As we draw closer, I am extremely surprised at seeing that the man does not allow himself to be in the least disturbed in his proceedings. Now his bullets begin to whistle unpleasantly near me. I fire in the air, once, twice.... Now his attention is attracted, and simultaneously I perceive a number of dark objects near the marksman. They seem to be his companions, black men, and squatting on the ground.

From the background there emerge now great numbers of such objects--it must be a large caravan.

The distance between us is diminished so that one can see plainly.... Now we can shout to each other.... At last I learn that the hunter is marching with his long caravan of bearers to the great lake. He has been putting out all his exertions to shoot some wild animals. But although he has many surprisingly interesting hunting adventures to tell of as the result of his three months’ march from the coast to this point, that task seems to have been beyond his powers! With a well-aimed shot he has stretched on the ground just one single dwarf gazelle!!

After shaking hands, he bewails the fact that he has a rifle that shoots so baldly. He says its system is absolutely worthless, especially against wild animals.

Our fleeting acquaintance is broken off in a few minutes. He is the first newly arrived European that I have met for a long time, but I have not too much sympathy for this class of sportsmen. So my new acquaintance goes off, still blazing away freely. He has been urged on by my information that his camping and watering, place for the day is a long way off, and that the borders of the lake seem to me to be fever-haunted.

A queer kind of shepherd, in truth, for these wild herds! I fear he would be very like a wolf, or rather--to be zoologically and geographically precise--a leopard, in sheep’s clothing!

Again I was alone; the disturber of my peace had not frightened away the animals. So, as I was regaining strength rapidly, I decided to halt here for a few days. This meant having to provide for oneself in the most primitive way, for I was short of some of the most necessary provisions and supplies. But in such conditions the decision was not difficult to take. I shall not easily forget the days I spent there.

The plateau of the volcanic lakes Naiwasha, Elementeita and Nakuro, standing nearly 6,000 feet above the sea, presents to the spectator all the austere, stern, and strange charm peculiar to the Masai uplands.

Some ten years have gone by since that expedition of mine, and all is now changed. Up to that time only the natives had lived in these districts. Few Europeans had penetrated into these solitudes; but now a track of iron rails links the Indian Ocean with the Central African Lake basin, and the shrill whistle of the locomotive sounds in the equatorial wilderness. Wherever the influence of the railway extends, the Masai, whom I then learned to know, have disappeared. Reservations have been assigned to them, like the Indians of North America.

C. G. Schillings, phot.

BEARERS MAKING THEIR WAY THROUGH HIGH GRASS.]

My former companion on my travels, Alfred Kaiser, describes, not without a certain feeling of sadness, how he saw them once more, not long, ago, under these new conditions, already to a great extent changed by European influence--and changed in a way that was not at all to their advantage. Using, instead of the beautiful Masai dialects, some mangled fragments of English, they scornfully refused objects of barter that were eagerly coveted ten years ago, and insisted on coined money. They no longer wore their native ornaments, but were dressed in European second-hand clothes. In a word they were stripped of all the wild and primitive beauty that had once distinguished them.

It is a hard fate, when a rude aboriginal people is all of a sudden brought into touch with those of a high degree of civilisation.

As the former lord of the land was deprived of his rights, so the same fate, more or less, befalls the splendid animal world that lends its charm to these solitudes.

But then--ten years ago! I had been given back to life after sharp suffering, and all that I was now allowed to see in such rich abundance spoke to me in a more than ordinarily impressive language, a language that seemed to me to have an enduring charm.

And how clearly must this language have sounded in the times of the primitive past!

So we may here attempt a picture of the wild life of the lake margin in former days, on the lines of the sketches I have already traced out of the life and activity of the wild herds of the plateau, as I still could see them....